Strawberry Character (rewrite)
by Lynccari
Summary: Bakumi, also known as K, is the one who takes care of children in Wammy's House. When she finds out that her favorite child, Beyond Birthday, is dead, killed by Kira, she decides to revenge for B. In order to do that she have to help L. It's an easy task. Because L was the one, she was in love with.


A/N; I decided to rewrite this fiction. Now, I have translated all this myself from my home language to English. I don't know, when the next chap is out, but I hope, that you'll look forward it.

**PROLOGY**

"GOOODDAMNIT! This is not any kind of the Planet of Apes! If you come here, we're gonna kill you! It is war now!"

Every child around me went quiet (expect those ones, who had natural ability to shut up, even as aroused they were quiet) even the old computer if house and some pedophile from somewhere in the area. From that guy, it didn't went too long to get out of the computer's memory and remove the hacker program, after that I said that I will know where he lives. Just BTW, I'm one hell of a hacker. (I hacked security system of White House in fife minutes and put that place to shit, but let's talk about that some other time). I looked at children, whom I should be entertaining. Bullshit – those, who weren't afraid of me, just thought that I'm weird or they hated me.

"What the hell of Elizabeth Tren you are?" I heard voice coming from back. "Skirt once a week won't do bad even to you, Bakumi. You'll look at least a woman, not like some kind of cross dresser."

What one of hell of laughing disease came from that line. I looked at to a cute-faced, girl-looking boy, whose appearance told me that he'll become washable Goth at someday, if I could give him electric shocks. I've been always thinking that Mello's only purpose in whole world was look like a girl and eat tons of chocolate. By the way, from the moment when I say Mello's eyes and corn-colored hair, I knew that we wouldn't be friends from the heart. And so it went – we had, to the end, love-hate-PR to each other. It often went like that I bought so fucking expensive chocolate to him, if I wanted even look at him. Corruption, dear friends.

"You little brat, go fuck yourself," I said to that narsistic kiddo. He just laughed a bit and get off from the place, AND it was close, that I didn't yell his real name out of me with loudest voice I got. Mello was classical narcist, but kid is kid, in the end. At least, it was easier to watch over Near. Just ask few things from him and leave him alone, with all those toys. I thought even from that moment, that if I'll never had children my own, I would brainwash them all to Near copies. (Mello, Matt, Near – at least, Christmas present for those three weren't too hard to thing). I looked at one little girl, whom had ask me to come help. She had red hair, and she dressed usually to a skirt (shit) and dressing shirt. A little school girl.

"Sherry, computer is open now."

I went to my room, rounded by silence. Only my own, heavy footsteps break it. I almost got nervous, when there was not any kind of sound, but then shit talking-mills started to work again. I didn't care what they said about me. I knew that it all was just bullshit. I came to that house to stay. Dock, dock, dock, goddammit. To someone like us, there was no room to us.

When those kids slept together in rooms of two persons, I slept all alone. My room wasn't big in no level, but it was even more dearer. Posters filled up the halls walls and at that day – at cleaning day – it even looked like a room of young woman. And I was only 23. Sometimes, I had even company, like Matt playing my video games, but it was very rare. He had not much other life than level up his Pikachu, but each person, each funs. After all, I didn't want anyone to come to my room. Not to my room covered with posters and books, fucking hell! After Beyond, I decided that any kid can't sleep in room anymore. Yes, Beyond was a cute little boy (and he grew up to a handsome young man), but he was twisted like two faced cobra. When I let him to sleep in my room, he tried to strangle me, not too long after that he told me that he loved me. Fortunally, L taught me some capoeira. But still, it didn't remove my guiltiness from that Beyond was killing people in Los Angeles. I still don't get what drove him to that. I loved those children like my own, more matter did they like me or not. For some reason, I loved Beyond more than anyone else. Chicken hen – again truth became from (narsistic) child.

I get a bag from my closet, which had Girugämesh poster on it. In that poster, it had so many explosion of frustration AKA a hole from darts and darts was in eye of singer, it stand hardly on it. Bag from the closet was that famous Nightmare Before Christmas quality. It was one of those only movies, I got boys watch whit me. "Fuck this shit," Mello had said to me even from that, but I told him to shut up and watch movie to the end. After the movie, he went out of my room, like Near, but Matt staid, he asked if he could play my consol. As a sugar in the bottom, while I bagged my bag, I actually agreed with that Cornflake – skirt makes a woman. Welcome to life of punk rocker-woman. I always use pants, no matter the opportune or situation. I also said that to myself, in panty department, that C-cup makes a lady. Think about that how many men were laughing after seeing my A-sized Bakuman bras? I bag them too, no matter that someone with X-ray vision could get one hell of a laugh with me. At least, if someone sees me naked. Yeah, that odd was good as birth control ways of Amish's. I also noticed that my love to rivet jewels was bigger than my interest of men. One of my closet was full of that beautiness of that glitter. I didn't pack them.

The phone ringing pulled me back to reality. I also noticed that even my music flavor wasn't so womanly. Fucking fuck, if BVB didn't valid to anyone, then it wasn't, so what? I decided to answer to that call. It gave directly from FBI.

"K on phone. Wha? What you mean death? That's bullshi—Aha. Aha. Okay, I'll come."

I picked up the call and I'd throw it to the wall with pleasure. It would be nice, if I haven't paid almost thousand bugs from that thingy. My chest hurted. I felt sick. First, from the kid, that I've been look over at sometimes, was taken away freedom, sanity, and now, even a life. I would be more pissed and sick even from a less. L had shown pictures from Beyond's sell to me (I admit, I wanted talk to him), but when I saw live video tape from his sell, I felt unwell. The talking left and I felt still sorry for that, no matter that he wouldn't miss me.

I backed the rest of my stuff in hurry. I wouldn't be surprised if I would find some of boy's clothes from my own. Near's clothes were too small, Mello's too big and Matt's too shitty-looking. And I would get angry calls from Cornflake and new generation King Nerd. But I was prepared for that. With truck money's and with perfect road kill plan. I just needed some genius to signature that, so that would work.

I called to my assistant, when I get to taxi. I ordered him to get me flight tickets to Los Angeles. Preferably to that flight which leaves in three hours. And he did it. Walter is the best, that was my first though when I heard that news.

Disgusting.

That was my first thought about seeing B. He had eaten his own flesh from his arms and legs like as a protest – that was filled all over the sell – and everyone claimed that he died on blood lost. My own instinct said something else. They were about to take body of B away, when I stopped those funeral coach drivers. Beyond was packed up to scream-colored plastic, what fit to him, because he loved girl's comics as a little boy. Ironically, but everyone in Wammy's House was unnatural interest. It was like disease of job to us.

My arms were shaking like a Parkinson patient when I unzipped the body back. It was dark blue. I guests were totally right. Beyond had bitten his hands that way he would really die in blood lost. Damned, I could see insides of his blood vessels from those wounds! I felt unwell. But foam, which had dried in corners of Beyond's mouth, got my attention. I searched mark from needle with my eyes. No result. Shit.

Then I remembered one case, which I had talked about with L. That some murderer called Kira kills criminals all over the world. We both knew – L and I – that Kira needs only name and face, cause of death is heart attack, but we didn't knew how he did it. If I could believe my old friend, Kira was in Japan, so he raped my home country with his crimes, and was a college student at the same time. Bullshit. If it was possible to kill people between lessons, I would do that long ago and get one hell of popularity. And guess where foams on Beyond's face were pointing at? To heart attack. (My biological brother is surgeon. We two really know the marks of slag). So, I get my phone and I didn't listen anyone in that space.

"L. BB down. Kira. Cut on."

TBC


End file.
